Car rides were usually a source of joy—head out the window, tongue flapping in the breeze, barking at passing cars. But this trip was different. Pressed against the car door, trembling slightly, the dog refused to glance outside. Its usual enthusiasm had been replaced with sheer terror.
The reason? A massive horse stood in the trailer hitched to the car in front of them. Its enormous eyes occasionally turned toward the dog, calm and unblinking. The dog had seen it earlier, just for a moment, and that was enough. “If I don’t look, it’s not there. If I don’t look…” ran on repeat in its mind. The once-wagging tail was tucked firmly between its legs, and its ears were pinned flat against its head.
Meanwhile, the horse seemed indifferent, chewing its hay and shifting its weight, though its occasional glance felt like a direct challenge. To the dog, the horse wasn’t just an animal—it was an enormous, otherworldly creature, far too big and far too calm.
The dog’s owner noticed the unusual behavior and chuckled. “What’s wrong? It’s just a horse!” they said lightly. But no reassurance could break the dog’s resolve. Its survival instinct was clear: don’t make eye contact. It cautiously glanced at the car floor, then the seat, avoiding the window like it held the answer to all its fears.
The rest of the ride passed with the dog frozen in place, its mind racing. The horse might have stopped looking, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. In the dog’s world, ignorance truly was bliss. Keeping its eyes averted, it clung to the hope that what it couldn’t see couldn’t hurt it.